


what if i fall further than you

by o_morgan



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 17:33:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2630309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o_morgan/pseuds/o_morgan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kelley gets traded. Alex heals. Mana plays wing woman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what if i fall further than you

“So, how long have you and Alex been a thing?”

Kelley has known Mana Shim for less than two days, since the two of them set up camp in the Morgan’s living room, Kelley answering Mana’s invasive questions about her ankle long after everyone else had gone to sleep. She likes Mana, faster than she’s maybe liked anyone, and she’s let her guard down just enough with her, but she’s still surprised at how easily Mana has figured her out.

The way Mana asks the question isn’t sneaky or knowing, it’s genuine curiosity about a situation that seems endlessly complicated, and Kelley can feel the heat creep across her face while she tugs the sleeves of her jacket over her knuckles. 

“Alex and I are not a thing,” but Kelley can’t help the lilt in her voice that makes her answer sound like a question she’s tired of asking herself. 

“Are you sure?” Mana asks, a smile on her face that feels wicked. “Because every time I touch you on the arm I can feel her shooting daggers at me with her eyes. Like, rapid fire daggers of rage.”

“That’s what you’ve been doing this whole time? I thought you just had some serious boundary issues.”

“I mean, you’re cute, but I’ve been testing a theory.”

Mana finds a ball, forgotten by a camper, and she initiates a game of pass that’s silent for a stretch of time while Kelley figures out how to approach this.

“Look, I appreciate the weird effort you’re putting out here, person I barely know, but your theory is bogus,” Kelley says eventually, settling the ball at her feet and staring across the gap towards Mana, a tilt of her head when she says, “Alex is very, very straight.”

“And you are?”

“Not a fan of labels.”

“Oh, I like you,” Mana’s laugh is loud and Kelley glances across the field towards the row of pop-up tents that Alex and the rest of the camp staff are huddled under between sessions. Even through the dark lenses of her sunglasses Kelley knows Alex is staring at them, and it feels different in a way that makes her stomach flip and she looks away quickly before she can commit Alex’s annoyed face to memory.

“Alex may be very, very straight, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to kiss you square on the mouth for like, a really long time,” Mana motions for the ball, completely casual even though their conversation is anything but.

“Bullshit,” but Kelley’s forced laugh is shaky with nerves and she wonders if Mana can hear it. 

“I’ve spent the past eight months with her. It’s not bullshit, and $20 says I can prove it.”

Kelley’s heartbeat is in her ears, and she rolls the ball under her boot with the ankle that she still thinks about every day, the one that still forces her to second guess a jog down a flight of stairs, and it takes her a minute to notice the lack of pain. She digs her toe into the turf and rolls her ankle slowly to test, and there’s no tightness, no twinge to make her swallow hard and count down the recovery months on her fingers.

She feels brave for a moment, whole again right now even if she wakes up to that familiar ache in the morning, and she looks up to meet Mana’s patient gaze.

“Prove it how?”

*

Mana’s arm is around her shoulders during warmups and she laughs too loudly at Kelley’s jokes when they’re surrounded by campers attempting to juggle. It’s just a hunch until Mana’s hand wraps around her wrist during a water break, and then Kelley knows for sure.

“You’re not exactly being subtle,” Kelley grins, looking down at Mana’s hands on her skin,

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a bad liar, and blatantly trying to influence the outcome of a bet.”

“This is just a bet to you?”

“Yes,” Kelley says, and it’s too quick, too sure, but Mana doesn’t react.

“Well, you say I’m influencing a bet, I say I’m gently encouraging two people to stop being dumb and realize what’s right in front of them because love is a beautiful thing.”

“Yeah,” Kelley grunts before slapping Mana’s hand away playfully. “Bad liar.”

“We’ll see.”

There’s a flicker of something in Mana’s eyes, a bite at the corner of her mouth, just before she steps towards Kelley and grabs at the whistle hanging from around her neck. She’s got the cord wrapped around her fingers, pulling a confused but willing Kelley slowly closer with each twist, and they meet eyes just as Mana licks her lips too slowly before leaning down to blow the whistle. She drops it with a wink and it’s a soft thud against Kelley’s chest as she swallows hard.

“That seemed very inappropriate to do in front of a group of kids,” Kelley says through her teeth at Mana’s back while she gathers her group of campers and heads across the field. Mana doesn’t look back, just waves over her shoulder casually and pulls on her smallest camper’s ponytail.

Kelley’s smiling when she turns on her heel back towards her own set of kids and stops short when she sees Alex staring at her from across the field.

She knows instantly by the way her arms are folded tightly across her chest and her long ponytail whips across her face as she turns away abruptly, that Alex is jealous. There’s a knot in her gut that feels equally hopeful and terrified, and a camper tugging on her sleeve when all of it comes crashing together for her.

“Oh shit.”

*

The last group of the day gets her painfully divided attention while Kelley teaches them proper striking form and tries to keep herself from looking over her shoulder for Alex’s location and hoping it’s far enough away from her.

There’s one final whistle to close out the first day of camp and Kelley pauses just long enough to give her group of kids distracted high fives before she’s taking off across the fields. She veers left to avoid a slow-moving and incoming Alex and runs directly into Mana, who’s already braced herself for impact.

“Whoa, what’s the rush? Take care of that ankle.”

“I need water.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you over there.”

“No,” is all Kelley can get out before Mana is slapping her on the butt and jogging away. She doesn’t have to look to see if Alex noticed.

Kelley makes it to the water cooler and drinks until her stomach hurts.

*

Kelley regrets the decision to drive carpool to the field with Alex and Mana almost as much as she will eventually regret taking up Alex’s offer to stay with the Morgan’s while she’s in Los Angeles. There’s relief in her shoulders when Mana calls ‘shotgun’ until Alex shoots it all to hell.

“Mana, that shotgun call isn’t valid.”

“How? I was in sight of the door and I called it first and loud enough for everyone to hear.”

“You had your hand on the door before you called it. I don’t know how you do things in Hawaii, but in California that’s an automatic void.” 

“Fine, I’ll sit in the back with Kelley.”

“No, Kelley gets to sit shotgun, bum ankle trumps everything.”

“It’s actually feeling really good today,” Kelley manages to spit out, knowing it won’t actually matter to either of them, and then Mana’s hands are on her shoulders and steering her towards the passenger seat while Kelley’s feet protest as much as they can. Alex doesn’t look at her when she climbs into the passenger seat, still careful of her ankle when she twists and turns, and Kelley tries not to pay attention to the fading tan that colors Alex’s slender wrist when the sleeve of her jacket rides up as she reaches for the gear shift.

When they pull away, Mana’s request to change the radio station goes ignored.

* *

She finds a moment of peace in the quiet bar of the Mexican restaurant the camp staff has descended upon. After slipping away from the table with a nod towards the bathroom, Kelley eventually just forgets to go back. Mana finds her fifteen minutes later peeling at the label on her beer bottle.

“Dude,” Mana draws out slowly as she slides onto the barstool next to Kelley. “What is up with you? You’ve been acting like such a weirdo since camp ended. And that conversation you just had with Alex at the table was the most awkward discussion about tortilla chips that I have ever had to witness.”

Kelley takes a long pull from her bottle before she leans back to dig around in the pocket of her jeans for the neatly folded twenty dollar bill. The corners are worn from too much attention, Kelley’s nerves forcing worry into her fingers while she and Alex iced their ankles in the Morgan’s living room, avoiding conversation and silently willing Mana to get ready for dinner at a more urgent speed.

The money gets tossed onto the bar in front of Mana and she stares at it for a beat too long before her eyes grow wide and she spins in her chair to grip Kelley’s arm.

“No way! She actually made a move on you? When did she do it? Was it when I was taking a nap after camp, did you guys get some action on the family couch? Dirty. Is that why you guys have been so awkward?”

Kelley has her hand over Mana’s mouth before she can ask another question, “Can you chill?”

Mana nods against Kelley’s hand, and when it’s pulled away cautiously the Hawaiian mimes pulling a zipper closed across her lips.

“She didn’t actually make a move, but it’s enough to know that she probably, definitely, wants to. Those daggers of rage you were feeling earlier? Totally legit.”

Mana stares at Kelley, narrowed eyes and pinched lips like she’s considering something serious, and then she reaches for Kelley’s beer.

“Wow,” she says softly, shaking her head before she claims the rest of Kelley’s beer as her own by taking a long pull. “I must have read you so wrong. I totally thought you had a thing for her.”

“I do have a thing for her,” and it’s bordering on defensive the way Kelley shoots back.

“Yeah, I was joking. You couldn’t be more obvious. Those little campers don’t stare at her half as starry eyed as you do, which is why I really don’t get the doom and gloom.”

“Because, I don’t know, I felt so brave this morning agreeing to that dumb bet and now that Alex actually does want to kiss me I’m totally freaked out by it. She wasn’t ever supposed to feel the same way. I spent a long time accepting that she never could, and it was just easier that way.” 

“It was?”

“No.”

There’s a long pause that feels like Mana’s way of letting Kelley breathe, and then she’s flagging down the bored-looking bartender.

“We need more alcohol,” she says over her shoulder to Kelley, before ordering another round of beers and as much tequila as her twenty dollars will get them. 

Shots are poured and Kelley’s is already burning a warm trail down to her gut before Mana can even pass her a lime.

“We’re just going for it then, ok,” Mana’s shot is chased by beer, and then her hand is dropping onto Kelley’s shoulder. “Kelley, my beautiful new friend, let’s do this. Let’s talk this out. Tell me what you’re scared of.”

“That she’s not sure of it the way I am. I’m scared that she only wants to kiss me because of how we made her feel today, not because of how I make her feel the rest of the time. And maybe that’s all this is, Alex being weird and jealous and just thinking she wants to do it for whatever reason. I’m scared that if she makes a move, if she kisses me, it’ll end with her deciding that it’s not actually what she wants. I don’t even know how you come back from something like that with your best friend. I mean, Jesus.”

“Kell, this is some worst case scenario type stuff. And it’s all based on your assumption that Alex hasn’t spent months thinking about the exact same thing, which she has. Plus, I told you this morning that she wanted to kiss you.”

“I obviously didn’t take that seriously,” Kelley says, suddenly sitting up taller with an iron grip around the neck of her bottle. “What was that other thing you said?”

“Oh, Alex is sure,” and that’s all Mana gives her before she’s hiding her grin behind a long pull of her beer.

“I’m going to need way more information than that,” but Kelley’s heart beat is already loud and quick in her ears.

“We spent a lot of late nights on the balcony of her apartment talking about you, and I always figured there was a reason she talked to me instead of Allie, or Tobin when she eventually showed up. Lezziest Lez in the League, you know?” Mana motions towards herself, a proud smile wide across her face. “She never came right out and said it, but she didn’t need to, not the way she talked about you, real quiet and serious. She could tell your mood by the way you played, or if you were quiet on instagram for too long, or didn’t answer a text right away. You wear socks to bed, she thinks that’s dumb, but she talked about it like it was so big and important, and I think it was to her. She said her chest felt too tight for days after you told her about the surgery, that’s when I knew for sure. When she called you afterwards and your girlfriend answered the phone, that’s when she knew for sure.”

“Oh,” Kelley says softly, thinking about Kate and the half-hearted effort she’d made in Brooklyn. “Yeah, she’s not really around anymore.”

“Yeah well, it was good for her, I think, getting that answer she was looking for. She spent two straight weeks ranting vaguely about bad timing, and how stupid New Jersey is, but at least she knew why she was angry.”

“Jersey is stupid,” Kelley smirks, but she’s thinking about the distance she’d thought she’d needed, a whole country’s worth that hadn’t changed anything but the way she’d thought about herself as a player. She tests her ankle just enough on the rung of her bar stool and drinks a little more.

“You snuck up on her, and the reality is that as much as you aren’t about those labels? She is, or was, at least. That you are the only person that has ever blurred that line for her is a big deal though, and it changed everything for her. You changed everything. She knows what she wants, she’s just scared, like you. She might need a little nudge. With your mouth, probably.”

Kelley’s laugh is too big to swallow away, and it’s still laced with nerves that rattle in her throat and shake her fingertips, but it’s bright and easy on the surface. She laughs like someone who’s gotten everything, because she almost has. 

“This is just a lot, you know?” Kelley says, her words softer than she expected, all of it hitting her right then.

“I know, but it’s also really good.”

“She probably thinks you’re an asshole for shamelessly flirting with me, after all the silent help you gave her.”

“Probably, but I’m fine with playing the enemy if it moves this little love fest along. Plus, I like messing with her a little. She has the shortest fuse I have ever seen,” Mana’s eyes flick up and over Kelley’s shoulder, and the grin she plasters on is forced and a little nervous. “Really short.”

Then louder, “Hey Alex.”

Kelley turns on her stool to follow Mana’s gaze, and Alex is standing at the entrance to the bar, looking as intimidating and angry as a person being propped up by a set of awkward crutches can.

“We’re leaving, if you guys are done with drunk girl talk or whatever you’re doing.” 

It’s sharp the way she says it, and Kelley catches that angry whip of hair for the second time that day as Alex turns to leave.

“I take it back. You better go propose marriage or something, because she’s definitely going to make my life hell back in Portland if you don’t. Be brave, Kelley O’Hara. And patient..”

Kelley’s on her elbow by the time Alex reaches the door, too stubborn and angry to ask for help, so she hits at the door with the end of her crutch and grunts impatience when it doesn’t open.

“Hey, what’s up with the mood?” Kelley asks, and it’s a test that Alex doesn’t pass, her mouth hanging open like she wants to say something honest before she clenches her jaw tight and keeps it to herself.

“Nothing,” Alex says, glancing back towards the bar, and Mana. “Just tired.”

“Well, come on. Let’s go home,” Kelley swings open the door, and Alex’s crutch catches just enough to trip her up and she swears too loud.

“Those crutches are a pain in the ass, huh?”

Alex lets a smile slip as she shuffles past, nodding her head until her long ponytail slips over one shoulder and Kelley presses a hand to the small of her back to help guide her along. She’s done it hundreds of times, in cramped locker rooms and loud huddles, and long after she’d first started to feel it, but there’s a new charge beneath her fingers now and she wonders if Alex can feel the difference too. She catches the shift in Alex’s posture, as much ease as she can manage on a set of crutches, and Kelley has her answer.

She doesn’t protest slipping into the passenger seat on the drive home.

*

Mana and Kelley don’t run any drills next to each other on the final day of camp, and neither of them need to be told why.

They’re separated by a single group of campers at first, impossibly small kids scrimmaging in pinnies that hang past their knees, but then Kelley catches Mana and Alex chatting from half a field away and before she can read into it Mana is jogging away with her hands up in the air, as if she’s feigning innocence while she heads towards the trapping drill no one wanted to coach at the farthest end of the field. 

Alex takes over for Mana, unsteady as ever on her crutches, while she tries to run her newly acquired drill on her own. Kelley doesn’t know what happened, but she’s suddenly frustrated by Alex’s stubbornness, and there’s an edge in her voice when she shouts over to her.

“Do you need help over there?”

“No,” Alex shouts back. “It’s good. We’re good.”

Kelley remembers Mana preaching patience through a fog of tequila, and then she remembers Mana, banished to the quietest corner of the pitch.

There’s a hundred yards between them, but Kelley knows Mana’s looking her way when she holds her hands above her head, flashing a pair of thumbs up that Kelley is sure she won’t understand until much later.

* 

Alex circles through the terminal drop off three times, passing plenty of available curb space that Kelley doesn’t point out, before she gives up and parks too many levels up in the garage. She cuts the engine in a parking spot along the wall and there’s a view of the city they used to share as the weight of the weekend settles around them.

Kelley’s already running late but she doesn’t make a move to leave. Her hands twist in her lap and trace over her thighs, and when Alex doesn’t say a word she busies herself searching her bag for a ticket she already knows is there. There’s the noise of a roller suitcase clicking across the parking garage behind the car, and when Kelley turns to follow the noise in the same direction she should have headed five minutes ago, she catches Alex staring at her.

“What?” Kelley asks softly, her smile not betraying how nervous she suddenly feels.

“I’m really glad you were here this weekend,” and in the quiet, minus Mana, Alex’s voice is even-tempered and warm, the way it always sounds in Kelley’s head.

“Me too.”

Kelley should check her watch or the glowing clock on the dash, but she can’t look away from Alex and the nervous way she’s twisting her mouth just enough to make Kelley picture a panicked run to catch her flight with Alex’s chapstick on the corners of her own mouth.

“You and Mana seemed to really hit it off,” and the scorn in Alex’s voice is back.

“She’s really cool. I get why you like her so much.”

“Yeah,” Kelley catches the scoff before Alex turns to look at nothing outside the driver’s side window. “Well, she asked me if you were single yesterday at camp.”

Kelley remembers that devious thumbs up from across a set of fields and she has to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from making a noise.

“I told her you were seeing someone. That girl in Brooklyn, right? The barista or whatever?”

Alex knows her name, but it makes Kelley’s hands twitch to know that she won’t say it, and she’s suddenly sure about how the rest of her trip is about to play out.

“I’m not seeing her anymore, actually,” Kelley’s answer is enough to pull Alex’s attention back into the car. “That’s been over for awhile.”

“Did you want Mana’s number then?” Alex’s attempt at casual is ruined by the way her voice cracks.

“I’ve got it already. We might go surfing or something, but I’m not going to date her. She’s not really my type.”

“What’s your type?” Alex sits taller in her seat, and Kelley’s sure she already knows the answer.

“Taller. Off limits.” Kelley watches the way Alex’s face changes, and how her breaths come in helpless gulps, nervous in a way that’s supposed to be foreign to someone like her. 

“I’m not off limits,” and the shake in Alex’s voice gives Kelley so many answers.

Kelley clicks open her seat belt and decides to be brave.

She’s too quick to lean across the center console and the zipper of her jacket gets stuck along an edge and tugs her back. It’s Alex’s frantic hands that finally pull her free, and Kelley’s laughing when she kisses Alex for the first time.

It’s tentative touches and gentle lips until Kelley’s hand finds a resting spot just above Alex’s knee. When Alex pulls away too quickly there’s a flinch that Kelley tries to hide, until Alex unlocks her own seatbelt and surges forward.

There’s nothing tentative about the first time Alex kisses Kelley.

It’s restless and hungry the second time their lips meet, desperate pants across eager mouths, Kelley practically climbing over the center console to pull Alex closer with a fistful of her shirt. Alex’s hands move slower than her mouth and the way her fingers trace over Kelley’s shoulders and up her neck feels achingly choreographed, like she’s plotted it out before in the random moments she allowed herself to consider it. Kelley wonders what else she’s thought about, but then Alex’s fingers run through her hair and Kelley forgets everything and pushes in closer. 

A plane takes off over their heads, louder than all the rest, and Alex’s thumb is tracing gentle arches across her cheek but too much time has passed and Kelley has to go.

“I have to…” and it’s a scramble for words that won’t come when she pulls away just enough, Alex’s breaths coming in short bursts across her chin, and Kelley gives up and just motions in the direction behind her before Alex leans in to kiss her again, slow and soft to commit it all to memory. 

“Plane,” Kelley says against Alex’s mouth, suddenly able to think in sporadic shots. “I have to get on a plane. I have to go.”

“Ok,” Alex says, the back of her hand passing just enough over her lips as she retreats slowly back into the driver’s seat. “Yeah.”

“I’m gonna go. Are you ok?” Kelley knows she’s ok, that they both are, but it feels like a cut and run that she never intended, leaving Alex worked up and alone while she puts a country’s worth of distance between them again. “We’ll figure this out, I just- I have to go. This is bad timing. Shit.”

“It’s fine, really. I’m good. We’re good,” Alex nods, her tongue making a quick sweep of her lips as they curl into a smile. “Hey Kell?”

“Yeah?”

“We made out.”

Kelley laughs and they both meet in the middle this time, a quick string of kisses before Alex pulls away one last time.

“Get out of here. And watch that ankle,” Kelley’s out of the car and careful on her ankle while Alex yells at her back. “Kelley? One last thing.”

“What?” she grunts, pulling her suitcase from the backseat, her voice echoing through the parking garage.

“We can do that again, right?” Alex smiles wide.

“Definitely.”

“Portugal,” Alex says like they’re making plans. “I’m out of this boot in a few weeks. I’ll see you in Portugal.”

“It’s a date.”

There’s a winded sprint through the airport with Alex’s lip balm still on the corners of her upturned mouth, and Kelley barely makes it to her gate.

* *

They don’t talk about the kissing in the weeks that follow.

There are casual texts that shift effortlessly into subtle flirtation, and facetime sessions that fill Kelley’s bedroom with the sound of Alex’s loud laugh. Some nights Alex mentions Portugal in a way that isn’t related to soccer and it sends a charge across Kelley’s skin. It’s a trip that isn’t guaranteed to either one of them but they tempt fate and talk about it like it is, knowing what it would mean for their careers, and whatever it is they’ve started.

*

Two weeks after she kisses Kelley’s lips swollen, the only answer Alex gets about her ankle is that it won’t take her to Portugal. Alex gets another four weeks in the boot, Kelley gets the call-up she’d been quietly afraid would never come again, and what had been a brave attempt at them comes to a sudden and grinding halt.

Alex goes silent in the days after the bad MRI and Kelley doesn’t know how to balance the feeling that comes from getting back to doing what she loves while someone else, while Alex, gets further away from it. 

Kelley sends a text that doesn’t get answered for days and tries to focus on the things she can control. She works harder in physical therapy than she ever has until her first thought in the morning isn’t about her ankle, or even Alex, it’s perfectly weighted through balls and clean tackles, or the hollow thud of a cross hitting just right off her boot.

The reply from Alex comes four days later while she’s out to lunch with Erin, in town for a wedding and late night celebrations in honor of call ups and the end of a bad year.

“All I can think about is getting back, and how nothing will feel right until I am. I wish there was room for Portugal too.”

Kelley knows she isn’t talking about a tournament, and there’s no accompanying sting because she understands this version of Alex, the one that draws in too deep when things aren’t going right, because it’s the same person Kelley became six months ago. 

She knows there’s eventually an end to it, but that it’s nowhere close for Alex, or for them.

“I know” is Kelley’s simple reply. She watches the imessage ellipses pop up, and she can picture Alex trying to think of anything that will make this better, but they’re both too tired to make up a lie. The bubble hangs in the corner for too long, and then it’s gone.

Hours later there’s one last text from Alex that doesn’t need a reply.

“I’m proud of you.”

* *

Kelley had put a country’s worth of distance between them the first time as an escape that never really worked. This time, after a failed start, the distance feels necessary and welcome as they head in opposite directions. 

Their gentle acceptance of the way things have to be for now only lasts a few weeks before Kelley gets traded to Portland for Allie Long and a draft pick. 

Jim tells her in his office on the first day of preseason, before she even has a chance to shove her gear bag into her locker, and relief uncurls her shoulders.

It’s Alex who texts first, while Kelley packs and avoids thinking about what the trade means for them, being in the same city again, on the same team. Alex's words make Kelley think they just might be able to handle everything.

“What time should I pick you up from the airport, newbie?”

* *

It’s almost effortless the way they slip back into being just teammates and friends, except for Kelley’s fingertips pressing too tightly into Alex’s skin when they hug at baggage claim. 

Alex bites at her lip when they pull away, her eyes lingering too long on Kelley’s lips until she forces a smile, tired and preoccupied, and looks towards Mana.

“Hey roomie,” Mana says, hugging her too tight before reaching for her carryon. “I don’t even know who’s more stoked you’re here for good, me or Alex.”

“It’s me, we’ve already discussed this.” Alex’s reply is dry and Kelley’s always liked that side of her. Mana laughs and Alex looks over at her with a quiet smile that suggests she’s worked it out that her friend was never really a threat.

“Everything’s a competition. How many bags do you have, dude, because this one is going to be zero help.” Mana motions towards Alex, who shrugs on the end of the crutches she still doesn’t look comfortable on.

“A lot.”

“Do you have like, one whole suitcase just for your hipster vests?”

“Shut up.”

* *

Paul tells her he wants her at left back before her first training session in Portland. It’s a surety she never felt once last season as she bounced around into, and out of, every position on the field until the term “utility player” felt more like a burden than a tribute to her abilities. 

There’s renewed energy in the way she trains, harder, faster, freer, and she clicks easily with her new partners on the back line. There’s a quiet calm in Nikki that hasn’t changed much since they played together as kids, and Rachel’s a different type of defensive mentor than Christie was. Nadine just makes her nervous.

Her touches on the ball are almost back, and she lets Rachel’s instructions guide her through the first few drills until it all starts to click again. She doesn’t question her ankle or hesitate tackles, and when she anticipates a through ball and sets off a counterattack that results in a goal, Paul gives her a clap on the back and a “good job” before he wraps practice. Her lungs burn and she’s almost there. She can’t remember the last time a coach complimented her and it makes her swallow hard while she walks back to the locker room with Nikki at her side, quizzing her about which coffee shops she’s tried so far. 

Kelley goes back to wearing five, leaving who she couldn’t be in Jersey, and who she used to be at Stanford, behind for good. The number change puts her next to Mana in the locker room, and she’s still knotting her post-shower hair into a bun when Mana drapes herself across her locker chair and nudges the back of Kelley’s calf with her foot.

“Well?” Mana grins, giddy enough for the both of them at how seamless it already feels.

“I think this is where I’m supposed to be.”

*

Mana drives them home at five under the speed limit while she coasts through yellow lights like they’re casual suggestions, pointing out coffee shops and restaurants while they talk about practice with a level of excitement that’s usually reserved for big games. Kelley’s body hums with energy, and there’s a list of people she wants to talk about her day to on skype, her parents, and Erin, Jerry if he’ll answer, but her focus shifts when they pull into their parking space outside of their apartment. Kelley catches sight of Alex on her balcony, quiet and alone, while Mana chatters about dinner plans.

“I’ll meet you in a little bit, I’m gonna go…” Kelley nods towards Alex, and there’s an easy shift in the kind of teammate she has to be for the second half of her day.

*

Kelley’s quiet when she slips into the empty seat next to her, propping her feet up on the railing to mimic the way Alex is slumped low into her chair.

Alex doesn’t turn to look at her when she asks, “How was it?”

“It was good. I like the girls a lot.” It’s not the way she’ll talk about her day to her parents, but it’s the right way to describe it to this Alex. “How was PT?”

Alex answers with a shrug and focuses on the cup of coffee nested in her lap. Kelley knows there’s more there, so she waits, ignoring the way her stomach growls.

“This sucks,” Alex finally breathes. Kelley watches her run frustrated hands across her face, and Alex has never looked more vulnerable.

“I know,” Kelley says, because it’s all she can say, and because those two words are different when they come from her. Alex gets it and her hands drop from her face to hang over the arm of the deck chair. She breathes deep and then Kelley’s hand slips into hers.

* * * 

Kelley gets in a solid week of training before she’s leaving Portland for Portugal with Rachel in the seat next to her. There’s an aimless one-sided conversation while Rachel flips through a book, but Kelley stops paying attention the minute the empty seat next to her is filled by someone that isn’t Alex.

Rachel asks her if she’s nervous as they take off and Kelley doesn’t know if she’s talking about the long flight or the tournament. Her answer covers both possibilities.

“Yes.”

*

Portugal is a nightmare.

Tom doesn’t trust her ankle, and Kelley isn’t all that sure she trusts him anymore. Everything feels desperate and disjointed, then they lose and it only gets worse. Riding the bench frustrates her, and then it isolates her, and there’s too much time to think about Alex in all the minutes she’s not playing soccer.

Thoughts of what could have been, slipping into quiet corners of the team hotel with Alex, grateful fingers pressed to the soft curves of skin, fight with thoughts of someone else playing in her spot as the thing that keeps her up every night. 

There’s a day long flight back to Portland, Rachel sleeping on her shoulder while Kelley stares out the window and tries to forget the feeling of the pinny over her kit, and she can’t sleep then either. 

*

Alex looks at her with more sympathy than she’s comfortable with when she picks her up from the airport. Alex is alone, and Kelley knows it for her benefit. They don’t talk about anything for a long time until the gnawing gets the best of one of them.

“What happened over there?”

“I don’t know,” Kelley answers, defeated and tired. “The only thing I know for sure is that I’m healthy and fit and I barely scraped by on minutes. I felt really good training here, then I go over there and I barely get a look. Maybe I overestimated how well I’ve gotten back. I don’t know, maybe I’m not ready?”

“It was just a weird tournament. And no one else shined in your spot, believe me. You’re fine. Mana said you’ve looked great in training and I believe her because I know who you are.”

Alex doesn’t say it gently, like she’s placating Kelley with half truths, it’s aggressive in its honesty, and Kelley lets herself believe in it. It’s not enough to ease the tension the runs in a line across her shoulders, she thinks 90 minutes on the pitch is the only solution for that, but it feels like a genuine start.

“We missed you over there. A lot,” Kelley says, changing the subject just enough to let her save some frustration for training.

Alex grips the steering wheel tighter and Kelley realizes there was more weight to her words than she intended, but she’s too tired and on edge to try and choose her words carefully enough so that they can both ignore what happened the last time they were alone in this car together.

“Do you want to go to dinner?”

Where Kelley had changed the subject with a gentle touch, Alex changes it further with an aggressive shove. They stop at a light and Kelley turns to look at Alex, and she’s already staring back.

“Unless you’re tired, or something,” Alex adds, but it’s too sure out of her mouth to feel like backtracking.

“Ok,” Kelley agrees. “Yeah.”

*

Alex only gets recognized twice in the farthest corner of the small restaurant that had been Kelley’s choice. She drags Kelley into pictures with fans who don’t immediately recognize her until Alex introduces her as the newest Thorn by her first name only. Alex is bright smiles and genuine interaction, but Kelley notices the way she bristles each time they ask her how soon she can get back on the field.

They talk about everything but all the things they didn’t get in Portugal, or the mounting pressure on Alex to force her body to heal an injury that requires little but patience and time. Alex laughs louder than she has in weeks while Kelley quizzes her about Mana’s new girlfriend. It’s easy and laced with something that’s just beyond casual and friendly.

Alex drives them home when Kelley can no longer hide her yawning behind a napkin, and there’s mutual hesitation when it comes to parting ways at the end of the night, their apartments on opposite sides of a walkway that feels like a comfortable barrier. Alex fiddles with her keys while she asks Kelley if she wants to come in for coffee, but she’s looking at Kelley the same way she did just before she’d leaned across a car and kissed her back. 

Airplanes remind Kelley of Alex now, so do parking garages and airports and seat belts, and she thinks about how easy it would be to fall back into that moment now. She could kiss Alex, and be kissed back, and forget about her shitty trip across the ocean but it’s not the way either of them really need each other. This isn’t the way she wants Alex, and it’s not the way she wants Alex to want her. Kelley realizes Alex had been right all along.

Alex’s jacket hangs open and Kelley reaches over to zip it closed when the wind starts to cut through the space between them.

“Night, Al,” she says softly, tucking her hands deep into her pockets after she gives the string of Alex’s hood a departing tug. 

Alex exhales and nods slowly, but she doesn’t bother to turn away to hide the sly smile that comes from getting caught trying to push beyond the limits she’d set on her own. 

“Goodnight, Kelley.”

* * * 

Kelley keeps a list of all the things she wants to try in Portland tucked away in her wallet, handwritten and neatly folded. There are coffee shop recs from Alex, and Mana’s favorite food trucks, winding bike paths, and breweries that the three of them spend too much time in on rare days off. The list grows as quickly as it shrinks, lines drawn through all the things they’ve finished, and Kelley falls for her new city the way she fell for Alex, too quickly to know any different.

They’re in the beer line at her new home field, crossing Kelley’s first Timbers match off her list, when Mana reaches her breaking point. 

“Are you guys sleeping together yet, or what?”

“Jesus, dude,” Kelley spits out, looking around at the swell of oblivious people that surround her, before she turns back to glare at Mana.

“You’re both either really, really good at hiding it, or there’s nothing to hide. It better not be the second one.”

“It’s the second one.”

“No, come on,” Mana’s annoyance is genuine, and loud, and her weird personal investment in them makes Kelley laugh as they shuffle forward in line. “You’re both just sitting down there sharing a soft pretzel and cheering on the guys like you didn’t steam up the windows of a car in a parking garage together? That’s ridiculous. Why would you do that?”

“This isn’t a bad thing, it’s just a pause while we both get back to where we want to be on the field. Alex can only think about getting healthy right now, and I have my own point to prove. We’re fine, really. We reached a very mutual understanding when I got back into town, and everything is sorted out.”

“That sounds like a business transaction,” Mana grunts.

“It’s more like a mature decision made by two adults who are choosing to put their careers first for a few months,” Kelley’s sure of their choice, but she understands better than anyone the gentle disappointment on Mana’s face.

“Well, your mature decision making is really killing my buzz.”

“I know, dude. This must be super rough on you. I’ll buy you a beer to make up for it,” Kelley wraps an arm around Mana’s shoulders and pulls her to the front of the line. 

“Two, I need two beers. For the sadness.”

* * *

They open the season in Jersey, as if there was ever another way, and Kelley does her best to ignore the personal stake she has in the game for as long as she can.

She rooms with Alex by choice, and easy laughter from bad jokes and prank calls to Mana’s room distracts them both from how different it feels from the last times they’d roomed together, in London and LA. It’s a little quieter and a lot less messy, and Alex doesn’t try to stretch out across Kelley’s bed when they watch tv.

For everything that’s subtly different between them, Kelley can still read Alex’s mood in the tug of a jacket zipper. When Alex comes back to the room an hour after team dinner has finished, it’s a quick and angry pull before the jacket gets thrown across the room towards her open suitcase.

“I’m so tired of talking about this fucking boot,” Alex paces the length of the room twice, while Kelley tries to ignore the clumsy sound of her labored walk, and then she looks over at her empty bed like she’s contemplating something before she moves to sit on the edge of Kelley’s instead. She sits near Kelley’s feet, and Kelley tosses the book she wasn’t really reading onto the empty bed across the room.

Alex had traveled with the team as a way to stay connected and supportive, but she’s spent most of her time in New Jersey antsy in between media requests, and annoyed when a few photographers show up to training to get pictures of her standing on the sidelines, each click of the camera adding more weight to the feeling of desperation that hangs her head too low.

It makes Kelley grateful that she was able to recover in relative obscurity, without ESPN blurbs and trying to give answers about an injury that doesn’t have one.

“They should be talking to you. You’re the better story here,” Alex says, calmer and softer while she takes a sudden interest in the scar that curves around Kelley’s ankle. “Back to play your old club for a little redemption. I could give those media people your number?”

“I want to talk about that even less than you want to talk about your fucking boot,” Kelley answers with a grin that doesn’t quite make it to her eyes.

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

“No,” Kelley lies.

“Are you lying?”

“Yes.”

“You’re ready,” Alex says, distracted but sure, her eyes still locked on Kelley’s scar. “And you’re gonna ruin his day.”

Alex reaches out suddenly, like she doesn’t have time to think anything through, and presses the tip of her finger to the raised track of skin along Kelley’s ankle that’s still an unnatural shade of pink. Alex’s finger is cold, but it leaves a path of heat behind as it traces along the gentle curve of her scar.

“Sometimes I wonder if it would have been easier if I could have just had surgery,” Alex’s face changes as soon as she says it, and she pulls her hand away sheepishly. 

“It wouldn’t have been,” Kelley says with an edge to her voice that surprises them both. It’s frustration disguised as anger, Kelley’s own impatience with slow healing and forced distance clashing with Alex’s, and it sends a quick flash of heat over her skin that fades as Kelley pulls her leg just enough away from Alex.

“Sorry,” Alex says quietly. “I didn’t think. I don’t know why I said it. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Kelley breathes. “I didn’t mean to take it personally. I just- you get to heal on your own, and I know that it’s taking too long, but healing on your own is better than this. You have to know that.”

“I do.”

“Let’s forget this, ok? Let’s watch The Bachelor and we can ignore everything else, since that’s what we’re good at.” 

It’s a soft dig at both of them, at their situation, but Alex lets it slip over her. Kelley clicks on the tv and there’s no hesitation when Alex stretches out next to her, sharing Kelley’s bed instead of retreating quietly to hers. The distance between them is narrow and tempting, and it feels like an apology that Kelley doesn’t hesitate to accept.

*

She’s nervous in the locker room just before kickoff. Her stomach twists and knots while she laces her boots, and she doesn’t realize her knee is bouncing until Alex’s hand slips across it. She’s in Mana’s vacated locker chair, quiet and reassuring, and there’s just enough pressure in Alex’s fingertips to let Kelley forget about everything that doesn’t matter.

Kelley spends the next 90 minutes making Sky Blue’s new forward invisible.

* * *

Kelley drives Alex to a doctor’s appointment two days before their home opener, and the boot she wore when they left in the morning is no longer there on the drive home.

Kelley’s skin tingles and her glances towards the passenger seat linger too long on Alex chewing at her lower lip. Kelley can still remember the rhythm of Alex’s pulse, which she swears to Mana is different from everyone else’s, on the pads of her fingers and she doesn’t realize she’s tapping it out against the steering wheel until they pull up to home.

The car settles and Alex clears her throat and watches her foot twist freely at the ankle, like she’s never noticed it could move that way, and Kelley watches they way she marvels at it until Alex looks over towards her.

“I think about kissing you a lot,” Alex says, her voice low and husky. “I know we’re holding off, and not talking about what we’re holding off, but this was a good day and I just wanted you to know that. It’s important that you know that.”

Kelley leans over to kiss her, soft at first, just enough to tell Alex that she thinks about it a lot too, and then the smile she’d leaned in with disappears against Alex’s lips when they both press in tighter. Kelley’s fingers grip at Alex’s elbow and anywhere that isn’t near a pulse point or the curve of her jaw so it’s easier to pull back when she needs to.

It’s Alex who pulls away first, heavy-lidded and hazy, before she leans in to press one last kiss to the corner of Kelley’s mouth.

“Ok,” Kelley says, trying hard for casual as she sits back in the driver’s seat and checks herself in the rearview mirror. “Now hop out of this car because your rule-breaking is going to make me late to practice.”

Alex is laughing as she slides out of the car. Kelley watches her walk carefully towards her apartment before she drives away, and she has to concentrate harder than usual to find her way to practice. 

* * *

The buzz of the stadium is in her ears, and it forces deep breaths that almost touch her shoulders to her ears. It’s a different sort of nervous than she’d been in Jersey, it had been about closure in her former city, and now it’s about proving herself to this new one she loves so easily.

She dresses with shaky hands next to Mana, who waits until Kelley’s pulled on her new home kit for the first time before she’s slapping her on the butt and telling her, “Damn girl, you look good in red.”

Kelley hasn’t thought about her ankle in days, but she lets herself now, finding a strange reassurance in the tight tape that makes her right sock too bulky. It’s a reminder that she’s been put back together, fixed and made whole again, and she finally feels back, in this locker room, with this team.

Alex is in the tunnel as they line up, wearing warms ups and both running shoes, one less worn than the other, and she doles out high fives and giddy words of encouragement. She smiling when she gets to Kelley, a big, boot-free grin, and when Alex grabs for her wrist Kelley wonders if she can feel the fleeting nerves in her pulse.

“Are you ready for this?” Alex has to almost yell, even deep into the stadium.

“Yeah,” Kelley nods. “I’m ready.”

And then Alex moves closer, fingers tugging absentmindedly at Kelley’s shirt when she leans in to say words in Kelley’s ear that are only meant for her.

“Our city’s going to love you.”

Alex catches her fingers as she lets go of Kelly’s wrist and starts down the line again. Kelley feels the words trickle down her spine and settle what shakes, the same way a touch had in the visitor’s locker room on the other coast.

Out of the corner of her eye Kelley can see that Mana isn’t bothering to try and hide her knowing grin, and she shifts just enough to bump her shoulder into Kelly’s.

*

When Kelley saves a goal off the line in the north end the Riveters chant her name, but Alex’s voice from the sideline cuts through everything else.

* * *

Alex doesn’t answer the door when Kelley knocks on it early the next morning. The sun hasn’t cracked the horizon but Kelley knows she should be awake, both of them adjusted to early morning PT hours and worries that don’t let them sleep with too much peace.

Kelley sends a text, and then another, and the cup of coffee she’s dragged from her kitchen starts to cool while she waits on the steps for a few more minutes, expecting Alex to come bounding around the corner with a box of donuts.

There are no donuts, and Alex never answers the door. Kelley gives up and heads back towards her own apartment to bug Mana until she wakes up.

A text comes as she steps inside, a lone picture of blurred feet on a treadmill, and Kelley is ok with getting snubbed for Alex’s first rehab run.

*

Alex is in practice within days.

It’s a slow start in the first week, conditioning and light ball work, tentative touches in the few minutes of non-contact drills she gets with her team at the start of each practice. She’s more patient with being two steps behind than Kelley had expected, and then her second week of training starts.

When a week of practice doesn’t fix her first touch, or erase the hesitance Kelley knows she feels in her ankle, Alex’s impatience clashes with her expectations, and the drives home from practice become overwhelmingly silent.

Kelley understands the up and down cycle of getting back better than anyone. The chip in the wall of her old Brooklyn apartment might still be there from a thrown picture frame after her worst day, and so she waits for a frustrated outburst from Alex that never comes.

Instead, there’s four days of quiet Alex, and Kelley thinks that might be worse.

There’s a morning practice at the end of that second week that ends with Alex hunched over at the waist, hands on her knees and gulping deep lungfuls of breath from conditioning that makes her legs shake. Kelley brings her a water bottle and Alex doesn’t drink from it, just squirts a steady stream down her back so it soaks the jersey that already clings to her skin.

“I really thought this was going to be the easiest part of rehab,” Alex says, shaking her head so the beads of sweat hanging from her chin rattle free, and it feels like the first words she’s said in weeks. “I feel a little stupid thinking I would get back so fast. And I’d really love it if no one was around to see this part, how behind I am.”

Kelley follows Alex’s gaze to the rest of their team, scattered around midfield while they pull of shin guards and stretch out tired legs.

“All they can see is how hard you’re working to get back. Don’t sweat it, you’re doing great.”

It’s enough to put Alex at ease as she moves to sit next to Kelley, and there’s a comfortable divide of silence between them as they unlace boots and shake turf beads from their socks. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Alex says suddenly, softly, while Kelley sets to work cutting away the tape around her ankle.

Kelley looks up from the tape but stares across the pitch, just over Alex’s shoulder, and says, “Me too.”

* 

“Hey, have you made it to the rose garden yet?” 

Kelley’s stretched out across the turf when Rachel asks, hands clasped behind her head so her training shirt rides up to expose just enough skin on the first warm day of practice all season. They’ve peeled off the rest of their gear too, Kelley, Rachel, and Mana, to let the sun hit their shins and the tops of their feet while they linger on the sidelines after practice, offering silent encouragement to Alex while she spends extra time working on finishing with an assistant coach. 

She doesn’t hear Rachel’s question the first time, her ears too busy straining to hear what’s happening on the other end of the field. Kelley listens to the ball clang off the post an endless number of times, and then one last hit catches crisp in the back of the net and she knows it was a beauty without having to see it. 

“Kelley, did you hear me?” Rachel asks again.

“What? No. Sorry,” Kelley hurries out, turning to look towards Rachel and catching sight of Alex coming their way.

“Have you made it out to the rose garden yet?”

Kelley has another Portland list, one that’s just for her, and maybe Alex.

This one’s kept in her top dresser drawer, tucked away underneath a pile of folded socks. It’s filled with quiet hiking trails and restaurants with dim lights and white tablecloths, little places that Rachel mentions she loves, places that Kelley only wants to see with one person. She adds spots to it late at night, or after a bad practice or a really good day.

Kelley’s other list started with the rose garden.

“Oh. Um, no, I haven’t had a chance to go yet, but I really want to,” Kelley says, distracted by the face Alex makes as she joins them on the sideline. It’s dissatisfaction and barely contained anger as she drops down next to them. Kelley makes eye contact with her, and Alex holds it. She asks softly, just under her breath so it isn’t a big thing, “How did it feel?”

Alex shakes her head, and Kelley doesn’t press.

“What were you guys talking about?” Alex asks, less curious than she is just wanting to avoid any more talk about her.

“The rose garden,” Kelley says, and she hopes they can drop that talk too.

“I wanted to take you last week and you wouldn’t go with me,” Mana says, suddenly chiming in from the other side of Rachel.

“I was busy.”

“No you weren’t.”

“I had an appointment.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Maybe you weren’t the person I wanted to go with for the first time,” Kelley shoots back, and the smirk on Mana’s face is because she got her to say it. 

Alex looks at Kelley like it’s sunk in quietly, Rachel looks confused, and the four of them are suddenly quiet while Alex works too intently on a stubborn knot in her laces.

*

Alex is in full contact practice when the team comes back from Chicago with three points.

They walk the tunnel together, the clicking of their boots echoing loudly against the walls, and Alex stops her where the concrete meets the edge of the turf with a gentle hold on her forearm. Alex doesn’t let go when Kelley spins around to face her, and their teammates file out onto the field around their sudden road block.

“What?” Kelley asks, after the last trailing teammate hits the turf, leaving them alone together in the shadow of the stadium.

“Please don’t go easy on me out there. I don’t need that. I don’t want it.”

It’s Alex’s gentle request to be treated like she hasn’t spent half a year as damaged goods, and she understands why Alex made the request only to her, because Kelley would be the one to take it easy on her, and the one who wouldn’t if Alex asked.

“I won’t,” Kelley says, and it’s a promise.

*

They don’t lose a game in the first month of their season, and Kelley and Mana throw a party on their bye week to celebrate, their apartment crammed full of loud teammates fueled by too much alcohol on a free Friday night. The rookies teach Nadine how to play beer pong and Alex controls the music, while Mana spends her time hassling Kelley at the makeshift bar in their small kitchen.

“Hey, let’s play a drinking game. You take a shot every time Alex looks over everyone’s head to find out where you are.” Mana’s voice is loud enough for Kelley to hear over Alex’s continuous loop of Beyonce tracks.

“You’re out of control,” Kelley grunts.

“Oh, take a shot,” Mana says, looking past Kelley and towards the living room. Kelley follows Mana’s gaze over her own shoulder and catches Alex staring back. They smile at each other, comfortable and warm, and Kelley waits for Alex to look away first, but she doesn’t. Instead of looking away, Alex motions towards the balcony with a flick of her head and Kelley doesn’t need the helpful shove Mana gives her from behind, but she lets it push her forward through a crowd of happy teammates.

“We missed you last night.” Kelley says as she steps out into the cool patch of night, shutting the sliding glass door firmly behind her. She sets up next to Alex, the two of them leaning against the balcony railing by their forearms, a full plastic cup dangling from Alex’s hand.

There is distance while Alex still works to get back, general frustration mixed with the heavier toll two a days take on her body, and sometimes they go days without talking outside of practice. It’s quiet, stoic Alex during the day, until her apartment gets too quiet at night and she slips across the walkway to Kelley and Mana’s to curl up on their couch to sleep, but never to talk.

They don’t question her about the silent use of their furniture, but sometimes Alex wakes up in the morning with the blanket tucked up higher under her chin, and she knows Kelley understands enough.

It’s two weeks of silent Alex curled up on their couch until Kelley wakes one morning to the pile of pillows and blankets she’d left for their unofficial roommate still stacked exactly the way she’d left them after a quick wash. The edges of the blankets match up with far less perfection than when Alex re-folds them in the morning, and Kelley shoves the pile back into the hall closet, knowing they won’t be needed anymore.

“I was kind of hoping we’d never actually mention the couch thing,” Alex says, a sheepish smile playing across her lips. 

“Not going to happen.”

“I didn’t think so,” Alex says, rolling her cup between her hands, careful to keep the beer from splashing over the sides. “I don’t know, the quiet made me think too much, and I wasn’t in the right head space for that. Then I had a really good day at training yesterday. Did you see me?”

“Yeah, I saw you. You looked good,” Kelley grins.

“Everything felt right, and stuff just changed. So I decided to just embrace the quiet. Plus, you guys run that damn blender so loud in the morning.”

Kelley laughs and reaches for Alex’s cup, their fingers brushing on the smooth hand off, and Alex stares at her while she drinks.

“So, what kind of stuff changed?” Kelley asks, peering at Alex from over the rim of her cup.

“I decided to stop thinking of it as how far away I am. It’s all about how close I am, you know? And I am really close.” Alex’s eyes are bright, and the way she says it is light and tinged with a hopefulness Kelley hasn’t seen in weeks.

Kelley wants to kiss her then, this version of Alex that she’s quietly missed for months, and when she does it’s firm and hungry, their bodies twisting just enough to reach each other with their forearms still stubbornly planted on the balcony. There’s the gentle nudge from too much beer, and lips that bump and clash in patterns that begin to feel achingly familiar, and Kelley’s fingers find the necklace that hangs from Alex’s neck, and it twists in her fingers to pull her closer.

It’s less frantic than all the other times, soft and measured while their team mills around on the other side of the sliding glass door. They take just enough to get them through the next push, and Alex’s fingers slip into the curve of Kelley’s hand when they pull away at the same time.

Kelley looks over at Alex, the bashful smile a mirror of her own, and when Alex reaches to take back her beer, her thumb brushes across Kelley’s with purpose. Alex drinks and Kelley studies the lights across the parking lot to slow the heavy thumping from inside her chest.

There’s a stillness that settles over them eventually, the space between them narrow and easy and just tempting enough, until the quiet is broken by someone yanking open the sliding glass door behind them.

They don’t bother to move apart when they turn to follow the noise, Alex with a less curious glance over her shoulder. It’s Menges that starts to step out onto the balcony, given just enough time for her loud, sloppy laugh to cut through the quiet before a fist wraps around the hood of her sweatshirt from inside the doorway.

“Rookie, no,” Mana’s tug on the hood is gentle but firm, and the young player only looks mildly confused about being hauled back inside, hitting against the edge of the doorway on the way back in. 

Mana’s head pops out in the open doorway just long enough to stare at the two of them, eyes narrowed like she’s trying to read body language and the speed of breaths. Alex and Kelley are the picture of calm, staring back with faces that betray nothing, and Kelley can hear Mana’s grunt of disapproval as she ducks back in and slams the door shut behind her.

Alex stares over her shoulder at the door for a beat too long, and Kelley catches the tail end of an eye roll while Alex turns back towards her. 

“Do you want to go beat her at beer pong?”

“Absolutely.”

* * *

A week later it’s Seattle, in Seattle, in a game that feels so much bigger than the potential for three points.

Kelley knows it’s a different kind of club rivalry when she’s grilled about the team’s preparation by her favorite barista three mornings in a row. The number of local reporters at practice, and microphones in her face, doubles during the week, and then it triples when someone lets it slip that Alex will be on the bench as an available sub.

Alex doesn’t play, but the potential draws more fans, more press, and more attention that any club game of the season, so it feels like the whole world is watching when one bad back pass from Kelley ends their undefeated season in the worst possible city. 

It’s a long ball in that she reads perfectly, but there’s pressure from behind as she tracks it back, Syd clipping at her heels as they try to outpace each other to the spot it’s going to drop. Kelley gets her foot on it first, a first touch that’s clean and patient, but Syd has a handful of her jersey and is pushing her inside and her only option is suddenly Nadine, but neither of them are ready. 

Kelley misjudges the weight of her pass on turf that doesn’t read like home, and it comes off her foot too fast, the angle all wrong, and her keeper has to shift and dive for it but it’s just past her fingertips. Nadine scrambles after it anyway, on desperate hands and knees that will never make it.

It takes eighty minutes for the first goal to be scored in a game they otherwise controlled, and Kelley’s face is already buried in her hands when the ball rolls over the goal line. When Syd starts to celebrate behind her, her hands drop to her knees and Kelley can’t look up from her boots.

Kelley can hear her heartbeat in her ears for a long time, and then Rachel’s hand is on her back, the weight of it reassuring enough, and she leans down to tell Kelley, “Come on, let’s get it back.”

They don’t get it back, but Kelley forgets the mistake for a moment, and she’s wild and determined until it’s all over. 

The final whistle freezes her, boots planted so firmly in the turf that Kelley’s sure they’ve grown roots, and she watches Syd and Megan celebrate at midfield because it’s easier than looking at her own teammates, quiet and tired as they slowly filter off the field around her.

Kelley catches sight of Alex making her way across the field, weaving through their team with her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her warmup pants. Kelley half expects to see disappointment painted across her face, because Alex hates losing in a way that’s too intense for almost everyone, but instead it’s just barely hidden concern that Kelley suddenly doesn’t want to deal with. 

In this moment, Kelley wants Alex to be every other teammate, quiet and tired and heading towards the locker room, giving her just enough space to not feel the weight of her mistake every time she looks at them. Instead Alex feels sorry for her, as a teammate, but mostly as a friend, one that kisses her sometimes in the sporadic up moments of their careful relationship. 

Kelley’s suddenly frustrated by their situation in a way she hasn’t been before, Algarve Cup and bad ankles and the brief moments she gets what she wants before it’s bottled away again are magnified in this bad moment after a game that she worries she’ll never be able to shake. Kelley knows she’ll regret this flash of misplaced anger eventually, but right now she just wants to not be here, rooted to this spot while Alex tries to make her feel better about things in the overwhelming shadow of this stadium.

Alex’s hand touches Kelley’s shoulder so lightly that it’s tempting to take comfort in the earnest way Alex offers it. Instead, Kelley shrugs it off so forcefully that it surprises them both, and the way that Alex stares at her, confused and rejected, makes Kelley’s chest ache.

“I’m gonna shower,” Kelley says, leaving Alex behind as she starts towards the locker room. 

Alex doesn’t call after her, and Kelley doesn’t know if she wanted her to.

* 

The team bus is an hour outside of Seattle when someone taps on the top of her foot, the one that’s stretched out across the empty aisle seat she doesn’t want anyone to fill. Kelley doesn’t have to look up to know that it’s Alex at the end of her row.

“Not yet,” Kelley says firmly, the anger from earlier replaced with weariness, and an ache of disappointment that settles low in her gut. She burrows further into the jacket that’s already zipped up to her chin, and Alex doesn’t budge.

“You don’t have to talk, and I won’t either. I just want to sit.”

Kelley knows she isn’t going to go away, that Alex is stubborn enough to stand in the aisle of the team bus the rest of the way home, and so she relents.

Alex doesn’t wait for Kelley to move her legs from the barricade they’d formed on the aisle seat, and it’s wordless and quick the way she grabs Kelley’s feet and slips beneath them. There’s tension in her legs, guilt making them tight and foreign across Alex’s lap, and Kelley knows Alex can feel it with the way her fingers start to play along the gap of exposed skin near the defender’s ankles.

There’s the promised stretch of quiet in their row of seats, Alex letting her fingers say what Kelley isn’t ready to hear as they trace over skin and the edge of white, cotton socks. The first sweep of Kelley’s scar feels accidental, but all the touches to it that follow are deliberate, each pass a silent reminder of all the things that one goal can’t take away: her comeback, a new chance somewhere else, the invigorated way that she plays now. And Alex. 

When Alex’s fingers eventually still, it’s gentle reassurance pressed into her flawed skin, and Kelley’s shoulders finally drop, the pinching ache between her shoulderblades that’s been there for hours slowly fading away, and Kelley is grateful in this moment to be treated like more than a teammate. Guilt, and anger, and the bitter taste of doubt curls off of her in a sudden, wavering breath.

Alex’s hand slips into Kelley’s then, and it’s comforting in a way that feels as effortless and natural as it does patiently learned, as if Alex has spent long stretches of time collecting all of Kelley’s moods and feelings, and all the ways to conquer them. It makes her blink back the gentle threat of tears she doesn’t want to spill, to be known this completely by this person, the one who was never supposed to feel the same.

Kelley looks over at her, wanting to meet her eyes for the first time all night, but when she catches sight of Alex in the infrequent flashes of street lights from outside the bus, her eyes are closed, quiet still because it’s what she’d promised. 

There’s something in Kelley that makes her want to hold onto that goal, to store it away as a reminder, a lesson in patience on the field, but she knows it will never really be that. Alex’s thumb traces slow, sweeping arcs across the back of her hand and Kelley knows she has to let it go.

She leaves the goal at the state line, her fingers laced with Alex’s.

***

A week after Seattle, Alex suits up for real.

She’s quiet in an attempt to hide her nerves, sitting on top of the trainer’s table next to Kelley while they wait to get their ankles taped. The trainer’s running late, but the two of them had left for the stadium an hour earlier than necessary because Alex was on her doorstep two hours earlier than necessary, and so the locker room is just theirs for a long stretch of time.

“Are you nervous?” Kelley asks, watching the way Alex stares at her own hands, and the slight way they twitch.

Alex looks over at her then, just over her shoulder, and there’s an easy, honest smile when she says, “Yes.”

“You’ll be alright, just remember what we talked about with keeping your expectations in check. No one expects you to score tonight, and it’s ok if you don’t. We’re just glad to have you out there again. Baby steps.”

“I know,” Alex says, and there’s an agreeable, but distant nod before she leans to stare over the edge of the trainer’s table. Their bare feet dangle above dulled linoleum and Kelley knows where Alex’s head is at.

“Do you ever stop thinking about it?” Alex’s simple question fills the empty room.

Kelley inhales, softly so Alex can’t hear it, and she wants to hold her breath for as long as she can, full lungs to avoid a complicated answer.

“I don’t know,” Kelley answers finally, her words pushed out with a long exhale. “I don’t think about it on the field anymore, and that seems like the big one. But off the field, I don’t know when that goes away. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop thinking about it. I’m not the same person I was before my ankle, and that’s a hard thing to forget.”

There’s a sudden stiffness in Alex, and a silence that feels deliberate and too loud for Kelley to ignore. She thinks about Alex in the tunnel before her first practice back, her gentle plea to not be treated like she was still fragile, and the hard tackle Kelley had gotten in on her because it was what Alex had needed. Kelley second-guesses her ability to read Alex now, wondering if what her head needs in this moment is a white lie and better timing.

“Maybe I’m not the right person to ask, though,” Kelley offers, trying not to notice the grip Alex has on the edge of the table. “Our situations are a lot different.”

“No, they’re not.” Alex says, firm and stubborn, and just a little exasperated at Kelley’s backtracking. “I asked you because I know you’ll tell me the truth, because I trust you.”

“Ok,” Kelley says, swallowing hard at the lump in her throat that’s formed with Alex’s words. Kelley’s hand finds the edge of Alex’s, and in the long pause between words she lets her fingers play across the tension in Alex’s knuckles. 

And then Kelley tackles hard.

“This is still maybe only applicable to me, ok? You know how hard on myself I am,” Kelley knows before she even looks over at her that Alex’s face is scrunched up, a look of disbelief like Kelley has suddenly forgotten all of Alex’s worst personality traits.

“Right,” Kelley smirks, “I don’t think about it in a bad way anymore, it’s not like that, but it’s still there almost every day and that’s the truth. My ankle makes me think about my life in halves now. There’s the ‘before’ half of my life when call ups were just expected and my spot on the roster felt safe, and when I woke up in the morning my ankle wasn’t stiff from the cold.”

There’s distraction in Kelley’s fingertips and the way they trail across Alex’s knuckles. Alex is quiet and still, and the truth comes out easier than Kelley expected it to.

“The ‘after’ half is a long adjustment to this new normal where nothing is guaranteed, not your playing ability, not your spot, nothing. Every call up that came after felt like a victory, and that was a really hard thing to accept. Watching someone play in a spot that wasn’t solely mine anymore? It sucked. It still sucks. There was a lightness I felt like I played with before that isn’t there anymore, and it’s been replaced with this need to prove myself to everyone over and over. I don’t think it’ll always be like this, but that’s what it’s like now, and I’ve learned to adjust.”

Kelley looks over at Alex and she’s quiet, gnawing at her bottom lip like she’s deep in thought, and Kelley knows then that she’s not alone in any of this.

“Sound familiar?” Kelley asks gently.

The nod Alex gives in response is slow, her eyes locked on the motivational poster across the training room, the one that Kelley hates.

“Syd scored a lot of goals while I was out,” Alex says, and it’s carefully controlled the way she says it, like she’s spent months thinking about it until the doubt had been replaced by something closer to resolve. 

“But Syd’s not you.”

“And Meghan isn’t you,” Alex says firmly, and it’s not meant as a challenge or a sharp rebuttal, it’s reassurance that Kelley accepts easily. 

“Touche,” Kelley nods, the threat of a grin pulling at the corner of her lips.

“Are you ok with who you are now, after?” 

“Yeah, I am,” Kelley says, and there’s no hesitation in her voice. “Because eventually I landed here, and this is where everything makes sense. This is where I make sense.”

There’s the slow, silent nod from beside her again, then Alex’s legs restart their childish swing, and the air in the room is light again. She knows it won’t always be this easy for Alex, but it feels like a good enough place to start.

“I like who you are now too, just as much as I liked you before. I might even like you a little more now,” Alex smirks, leaning over to bump the insinuation into Kelley’s shoulder, and Kelley still finds it endearingly brave how easily Alex has accepted this new piece of her life.

“Are you flirting?”

“Maybe, a little bit. It’s keeping the nerves away.” Alex’s laugh is low, and it catches in her throat.

Kelley’s feet brush against Alex’s where they hang below the table, and innocent touches are suddenly charged, potential laced with promise in a delicate mix that’s uniquely theirs.

“Kell-” Alex starts, and there’s a crack in her voice that makes Kelley bite at her lip, but the sentence goes unfinished when the athletic trainer shuffles into the room, Mana trailing close behind him.

Alex’s eyes are still locked on hers, even as Mana settles onto the trainer’s table next to her, and there are things left unsaid in the hard swallow before Alex finally looks away.

“Really good timing, Mana,” Alex says as she turns towards her, her head swiveling quick like she’s genuinely annoyed, but there’s a lightness in her voice that pairs with Mana’s knowing smile, as the trainer sets to work on her ankle.

“It’s a big game today, dude, and I’m just amped for my girl. But I’m really sorry, was I interrupting something?” and Kelley tries not to roll her eyes at the way Mana clutches at her chest.

“I’m only getting 15 minutes today,” Alex doesn’t acknowledge the question, but there’s pride and excitement laced with that familiar twinge of nerves as she tries to downplay her first game back.

“Hey, who cares about how many minutes,” Mana says with an encouraging bump to Alex’s leg. “You’re finally ready to get some, and that’s the point. Kell, aren’t you stoked that Alex is going to be getting some?”

There’s one last rip of tape before the trainer is smoothing his palm over his work, and when Alex leans forward to run her fingers across the tight wrapping around her ankle, Kelley looks over her towards Mana, who’s satisfied with her innuendo. Kelley narrows her eyes and flips Mana off behind Alex’s back, but there’s a crooked grin that she doesn’t bother to hide.

*

They’re up by two late in the second half when the air in the stadium starts to change.

A low rumble from the section behind their team bench grows louder before it starts to spread around the stadium. 13,000 voices that vibrate with excitement surround her while she stands at the top of the eighteen, and Kelley doesn’t have to look away from her mark to know what’s happening.

Alex’s number glows green on the sub board, held up high on the next break in play, and Kelley watches it all play out with quiet admiration, for the moment, and for what the moment means for this person she spends of her time thinking about.

Her sideline routine is precise, a couple of high jumps, her knees tucking into her chest as far as they’ll go, and then when Alex’s feet settle back onto the ground there is tension along her jaw. Eight months of anger and pain and doubt are clenched tight between her teeth until she can finally bury it deep in the turf of her stadium.

That stadium is on its feet when Alex sprints on for the start of her season.

*

Her first touch on the ball is off, betrayed by nerves that make her too eager, and the simple ball bounces off her foot and over the endline. Kelley watches her take a deep breath as Mana tugs playfully on the end of her jersey, saying something that makes them both laugh on the jog back. Each touch on the ball that follows is cleaner, calmer, and Alex starts to settle in.

Her best chance of the night comes from Kelley, a cross in from the left that drops right into the spot where Kelley knows Alex’s run will take her. The ball feels perfect coming off her foot. Kelley can hear the collective intake of breath from everyone in the park, endless sets of lungs filling with anticipation while the cross hangs in the air. Alex collects it easily and shoots quick, a defender clipping at her heels, but the ball is just wide. The entire stadium exhales then, but the sound isn’t disappointment, it’s hopeful and encouraging. 

Alex’s head is in her hands after the miss, but when Kelley meets eyes with her on the jog back, there’s a thumbs up held high for the good service and a big, happy smile that says everything.

Kelley’s glad to have her back.

**

Their city is quiet again outside the walls of the stadium, but even long after the final whistle and another three points, the game still courses through Alex. Kelley can feel the unchecked adrenaline in the twitching fingers that brush across the back of her hand, Alex pressed in close to Kelley’s side on the long walk to the parking lot.

“How do you feel?”

It’s the same question Kelley has asked throughout Alex’s recovery, the one that’s always answered with varying degrees of disappointment or shrugged off with simmering frustration.

It’s different tonight.

“I feel really damn good,” Alex breathes, sure and happy and full of relief. The travel bag that’s slung over Alex’s shoulder bumps along her hip, highlighting the sudden lightness in her steps.

“You looked good,” Kelley shoots back, happy because Alex finally is, and because of three points, and the way this city smells at night.

“Let’s not go home yet,” Alex says suddenly, her hand on Kelley’s wrist. Alex’s words are leading, bordering on something, and Kelley notices a shift. “We had a good night tonight, and I’m not ready for it to end.”

They round the corner into the players’ parking lot and it’s mostly empty. Alex’s car is in an empty row, parked under one of the few street lights, and it glows like a beacon.

“We should get you a beer then,” Kelley says, distracted a little as she starts to dig for Alex’s car keys, stashed away in her bag because Alex had been too anxious to drive them.

“Ok but a beer means a beer though. No trying to slip in Fireball halfway through because it’s the special or because it’s cold and you need to warm up. No Kelley Classic tonight.”

“You know I can’t agree to that,” Kelley says, stone-faced as she drags the found set of keys up from the bottom of her bag. “Everyone loves a good Kelley Classic.”

Alex laughs then, rowdy and easy, and it sounds like a forgotten memory in Kelley’s ear. The sound slips beneath the edges of Kelley’s coat and across freshly scrubbed skin, and she swallows hard at the way she suddenly feels, tightly coiled and warm. Ready.

Alex isn’t laughing anymore when Kelley looks up at her, but the smile that remains is teasing until it’s dragged away with a trace of her tongue across her lips.

When Alex kisses Kelley in the brightest corner of the parking lot it’s soft and impossibly patient, as if, to Alex, this moment had always felt inevitable, that frantic presses of hands and lips were for moments that weren’t guaranteed to them. Alex kisses her to say that this moment always was.

Her hands find the collar of Kelley’s coat and they twist around the ends of warm fabric to keep her close. The travel bag that still hangs from her shoulder slips off eventually, falling to the ground with a heavy thud, and it was like an actual anchor that kept her from floating away with the way she’s suddenly rising to the edges of her toes to press in closer. Warm hands grasp for handfuls of Alex’s sweater, and Kelley uncoils.

They’re both too distracted by the increase in tempo, Kelley’s back pressed into the car door that still hasn’t been unlocked, that they miss the sound of shuffling feet across the asphalt, and the sudden way the sound stops.

“Oh my gosh you guys.”

Kelley knows it’s Rachel’s voice even before she pulls away just enough, Alex’s breath across a flushed cheek when she turns to look at their teammate.

Rachel’s at the edge of the streetlight’s glow, both hands clasped together like she’s trying to keep herself from clapping. Mana’s just behind her, a hand over her mouth that doesn’t hide the way her shoulders shake from laughing.

Alex’s chest heaves against Kelley’s, and she loosens her grip on a coat collar for an awkward wave.

“Hey Rach.”

Rachel stares at them for a beat too long, slack-jawed and apologetic, before she waves back slowly. 

“Ok, sorry,” Rachel says, shaking her head like she’s snapping herself out of a trance. “You guys just caught me a little off guard. We’ll get out of here now. Sorry. Keep going. I think this is all really great, by the way.”

“I’ll see you girls at home,” Mana says as she starts pulling Rachel away, a wicked grin that stays silent until they’re almost gone, and then Kelley can hear her delighted laugh from five parking spots over, Rachel asking questions at a furious pace that only makes Mana laugh harder.

***

Four months after she gets traded to Portland, Kelley finally gets to see the rose garden, Alex’s hand warm in hers.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for all your massive help, pal.


End file.
